


Twelve Hours

by phantisma



Series: Twelve Hours [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Flashbacks, Implied Torture, M/M, Memory of violence, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Steve are partners in the FBI, in a unit similar to the BAU (think Criminal Minds).  When an unsub has Chris captive for twelve hours, he does a pretty good job of getting into his head, and leaving behind some wounds that, like those in his flesh, won't heal easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twelve Hours

"Chris!"

Everything moved in slow motion as he fell backward, grabbing out to stop his fall. He was bleeding and his brain fuzzy from the loss of blood and the hours of torture. Still, he had enough presence of mind to roll out of the way as shots rang out, curling up and covering his head.

The suspect fell beside him, dead before he hit the ground. 

"Chris!" the voice pulled him up from where he was curled up. He unfolded, held up his bound hands to stop his partner from grabbing him and causing more damage.

"Not alone." Chris ground out, as Steve fell to his knees beside him.

"We know." Steve looked around them, gun still in hand. "The team is on him."

Chris nodded and tried to sit up.

"No. Stay down. You're hurt."

He wasn't going to argue. He hurt in places he didn’t know could hurt. His wrists were chaffed and raw under the rope and his leg screamed in pain when he moved it…and his head…he couldn’t decide which was worse, the buzzing or the fog or the pain radiating from the fist-sized egg at the back of his head. He lay back on the cold concrete and closed his eyes against the cacophony of pain. The bleeding in his side had stopped at least…or he'd stopped feeling it. 

"Hey, stay with me." Steve was sitting beside him now, his hand pressed against the wound in Christian's side. 

"Told you." Chris said. "Partners."

"Yeah, you told us." Steve agreed. 

"Took you long enough." He closed his eyes, the energy to hold them open too much.

"Here now." Steve said. "Hey, Chris. Come on. Stay with me."

He tried…but he was fading fast, slipping into the dark.

"Where's the medic?!"

 

"Hey." Chris leaned on his cane as he eased into the observation room where Steve was watching two of their team members interrogate their prisoner.

Steve turned toward him, frowning. "Hey yourself. I thought you were going to see the doctor. Are you supposed to be here?"

The doctor. The shrink. He'd had an appointment. It hadn't gone well. He knew he needed it. He was a fucking profiler, he knew he was having serious issues. Still, Chris rolled his eyes and limped toward the window. "Probably not." 

Inside that room was the man who had tortured him…had left him in the hands of his protégé, who it turned out was the more deranged of the two. Fortunately, the profile had worked and the team had found him…just not before he'd discovered first hand just how psychotic they both were.

"Let me take you to lunch." Steve suggested, moving closer, his hand against the small of Christian's back. It was intimate and familiar, a comfort that he knew better than to accept here where others could see.

"I need to see him." Chris countered, though he didn't move away.

"You need to listen to your doctor and finish healing." Steve redirected.

"I'm fine." He wasn't fine. He knew he wasn't fine. He'd been months in recovery after surgery to repair the internal bleeding and the broken bones in his leg. He'd had enough of lying around waiting…and now that they'd finally caught the bastard, he'd be damned if they were going to keep him on the sidelines.

"Well, well, the prodigal returns."

Steve stepped away, his hand leaving a warm spot on Christian's back. "Dave." Chris glanced at him, but looked immediately back at the bastard on the other side of the window.

"Good to see you up and around."

"He doing any talking?" Chris asked, gesturing with his chin. Steve had turned the volume down, but he could still hear his team mates.

"Not so much. Smug bastard."

Chris knew that. First hand. The two profilers in the room were getting no where and they knew it. They both looked at the window, then left the room. 

Thomas Antony sat alone, his cold eyes starring right at Chris…like he knew Chris was there. He shivered and turned away, looking up at Steve, then Dave. "He bragged about his other victims." He rubbed a hand over his face. "When he…" He swallowed around a memory that was mostly pain…pain and that voice telling him what a failure he was. "When he had me. There are more bodies out there."

"We know." Dave responded, his face showing his concern.

"Dr. Kane…is that you in there?" Antony's voice whispered through the speakers and Christian had to fight turning to look at him.

"Ignore him." Steve said softly beside him. 

Christian closed his eyes, nodding once. Steve turned the volume off completely. The door opened again, Andrea and James joining them. "Kane, didn't expect to see you." James said.

Chris offered a tight smile. "Tired of sitting in my apartment. Needed to get out."

"And you come here?" Andrea asked with a smile of her own. "Wouldn't be my first choice."

His skin was too tight with so many eyes on him and he fidgeted, pushing his hair behind one ear. "I should…let you get back to work." He limped out of the room, away from their stares, away from the looks on their faces. He couldn't stand the pity he saw in their eyes, or the way they looked at the cane like it meant he was some kind of invalid.

"Hey." Steve caught him just before the elevators, grabbing his arm. "Where are you going?"

"No where…I shouldn't be here."

"Let me take you home." Steve offered as the elevator opened. 

"Don't you have work to do?" Chris didn't want more pity, certainly not from him. He got there on his own, he could get home that way too.

"It can wait." Steve stepped in beside him, dialing his phone. "Hey, I'm taking Chris home. Call me if you need anything." It was obvious Steve wasn't taking no for an answer. His hand on Christian's waist was steadying as the approached his vehicle.

"You know we can't keep doing this." Chris said as Steve helped him into his SUV.

"What? Getting into cars?" Steve smirked and shook his head. "You worry too much."

"You don't worry enough." Chris countered. There were rules. Which they were breaking. One day it was going to catch up to them.

Chris sat beside Steve though and closed his eyes, letting the motion of the vehicle ease some of the tension from him. He'd been anxious since he'd heard the news that they'd finally caught the bastard. Seeing him was supposed to help. He wasn't sure it had.

He felt eyes and realized that the car had stopped. Chris looked at Steve, then around them. They were already in his parking garage. "Come on, Dr. Kane. I'll order us a pizza and you can beat me at chess."

He opened his door and came around to help Chris with the step down out of the SUV. Steve's arm around his shoulders was steadying and comforting, a luxury they couldn't afford in public. 

Since the hospital had released him, Steve had all but moved in with him. He unlocked the door and held it while Chris limped past him. “Eventually, they’re going to figure this out.” Chris said as he went to the kitchen for beer.

“You’re my partner, Christian. No one is going to be suspicious of me taking care of my partner. Besides, it isn’t like those rules aren’t broken all the time. It only becomes a problem if it becomes a problem.”

Chris rolled his eyes and handed Steve a beer. “Yeah, clever.”

Steve put his beer on the counter and grabbed Chris by the hips, steadying him as he stepped in close. “We agreed. If it becomes a problem, I’ll transfer out of the unit.” His lips ghosted over Christian’s. 

“Don’t want you to…” Chris lost the rest of his words as Steve’s tongue slid along his. 

“So we don’t have a problem.” Steve whispered.

Chris wanted it to be that simple. Nothing was ever that simple. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Steve said.

“I thought that’s what you liked about me.” Chris countered, kissing Steve lightly.

"I thought you were hungry."

Chris threaded a finger through his belt loops, tugging him toward the bedroom. "Oh, I'm hungry." At the door of the bedroom, Chris abandoned his cane, limping the last few steps toward the bed. This was easier. This was familiar and he could let go of the fear and memory and exist in this moment, as Steve licked over his lips and they both shed layers of clothing before Chris sank down onto the bed, reaching for Steve.

They rolled together, bodies touching, skin on skin, heat rising. Steve pressed Chris to the pillows, his mouth covering Christian's, tongue delving in, licking at the roof of his mouth. Steve's hand curled around Chris' cock, tugging on it.

Chris responded with his own hand on Steve's cock, smirking against Steve's lips as it filled his hand, hardening quickly. He fumbled with his free hand for the nightstand, coming back with the lube. He smeared it generously along Steve's cock, then his own before tossing it off to the side somewhere.

The drag of Steve's hand up his dick was hot, but easier now and Chris found himself spreading his legs to give him room, inviting him to do more than just drag his hand up Christian's dick.

"Pillow." Steve murmured as he positioned himself. Chris nodded, pulling one of his pillows down and lifting his hips to get it under him. Steve's hand moved from Christian's cock to his hips, helping him steady himself and get the pillow in position under him so that his hips tilted back and his ass was more easily accessible.

He used his lube slick hand to fondle Christian's balls, then down, between his cheeks, one finger sliding into him easily. Chris hissed and adjusted himself, knees bent, heels on the mattress. It opened him up just a little more, which Steve responded to by adding a second finger.

His hand moved slowly, his fingers pressing in and Chris groaned when he added a third. "Just getting started." Steve said, smirking down at him.

"You better get on with it before I change my mind and decide to fuck you instead." Chris said, bearing down on Steve's inward stroke. "It's enough."

"If you say so, it's your ass." Steve's fingers withdrew and he moved so that his cock was brushing Christian's hole. One hand settled on Chris' hip, the other held his cock as he pushed in. Chris exhaled and held his own cock as Steve sank in, filling him up.

Chris arched up until his leg complained about the position. He shifted and Steve pulled back. "Your leg?" Steve asked.

Chris nodded. Steve's hand slid up the back of the offending leg, easing it up off the mattress, massaging against the scar tissue just above the back of his knee as he lifted the leg, settling it up against his hip, easing the pain. "Better?"

Again, Chris nodded and Steve pushed in, adjusting his position to keep Christian's leg in place. Chris closed his eyes, one hand curling around his cock as Steve stroked, setting up a wicked pace. He let everything outside of this moment slide away, matching Steve's rhythm until he was close to coming and Steve was grunting.

Chris opened his eyes as he came, thick ropes of come painting his chest. Steve's rhythm stuttered and heat flushed through Chris as Steve came. Steve eased back, a dopey grin on his face as he got up and padded into the bathroom for a washcloth. He came back, still grinning and cleaned up Christian's chest, then his ass, pulling the pillow out from under him.

"What's got you so happy?" Chris asked as he tossed the cloth toward the hamper.

"You." Steve replied, sliding into the bed and working a sheet up over them both. "You haven't come like that since before…" His voice trailed off.

Chris let Steve curl up to him. "I got tired of waiting for you to do the job." His words were low, and he could feel himself drifting into the post-coital haze that would lead to sleep if he didn't get up and get moving again…but with Steve's arms wrapped around him, he didn't think moving was going to happen.

Steve kissed his forehead and that seemed to seal the deal. His eyes closed and sleep beckoned.

 

_"Come on now, Dr. Kane…you're a strong man…you can take more."_

_He's hyperventilating and he knows it, tries to control it, but the fist in his hair is pulling him back in the chair, exposing his chest for Antony's pleasure. His shirt hangs loose from his shoulders, his wrists bound and pulled up behind his head._

_He braces for the pain and isn't disappointed. His voice echoes off the metal walls as he screams, thrashing to escape…but there is no escape. The blade sinks into him, hot and fierce, burning him, bleeding him…_

_"Tell me, Dr. Kane…where does it hurt most?"_

_Antony laughs and his partner echoes him, shoving Chris out of the chair and onto the floor. "They aren't coming, Dr. Kane. I left them the body of a sixteen-year-old girl to keep them occupied while we play with you."_

_"Can I cut him? Let me cut him."_

_Antony is leaning over him, his face so close, his breath in Christian's ear. "I shouldn't let him, he hasn't learned how to do it without killing you too quickly…maybe one little cut, somewhere that isn't vital."_

_The knife digs in, dull and jagged down the back of his thigh, blood runs thick over skin already too hot. He screams out as hands drag him through the dark, his leg twisted, broken and he's falling, falling…_

Christian jerked awake, instinctively pulling away from Steve and sitting up. He rubbed a hand over his sweaty face and eased himself out of bed. The nightmares had gotten steadily worse. He knew it was normal, expected, after what he'd been through…but that didn't make them easier to stomach.

He slipped into the bathroom and relieved himself, washed his hands, and splashed cold water over his face. None of the ordeal showed in his face outside of the dark shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. 

From the neck down though…there he was a road map of scars, burns, cuts. In the twelve hours he'd been Antony's prisoner, Antony and his partner had down a lot in their effort to break him.

He counted himself lucky that the team had come for him before they'd moved on to electrocution and other torture methods. Antony had preferred a more intimate, personal approach first. 

_"I believe that pain shows us who we really are inside. Let's our true nature shine. What's inside you, Dr. Kane?"_

He turned his face from the mirror and drew in a ragged breath. That voice followed him, even as he turned off the light and slipped quietly through the bedroom. 

The apartment was quiet, the living room cast in shades of orange and red as the sun set beyond the windows. It should be soothing, but it had stopped being soothing weeks ago. It was confining and suffocating anymore.

He went to stare out the window, at least there he had the illusion of air, of space.

"Hey." Steve was leaning against the doorframe in his boxers, his arms crossed over his chest like he was cold. "You okay?"

Chris didn't answer right away, turning his eyes back out the window and sighing. "I wish you didn't have to keep asking that."

"It takes time."

Chris nodded. He knew that. He breathed in deep and let it out slowly, turning to look at Steve again. "I'm not okay." He licked his lips. "I think we both know that." He limped toward the couch, easing down. 

Steve came to sit beside him, not touching him. "Okay. How do I help?"

Chris pulled a hand through his hair and blinked at unwanted tears. "I don't know if you can."

Steve nodded and sat back, his eyes still on Chris. "You told me in the hospital that you didn't want to be alone."

Chris smiled a little. "Is that why you've been spending so much time here?" He didn't remember saying it, but it wasn't untrue.

"Maybe. Maybe it's because I care a little more than a partner should."

"You're not going to get all mushy on me, are you?" Chris asked, letting the somber mood slip back just a little bit. "Not sure I could handle that."

"God forbid." Steve said with a snort. 

"It's going to take time." Chris said, echoing Steve's sentiment. "And I might need…hell if I know what I'm going to need."

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. "Company, friendship, space, someone to yell at, a partner who can cook."

Chris covered Steve's hand with his own. "A partner who cares a little more than a partner should?"

Steve leaned in and kissed his cheek. "How about a partner who can order a pizza and find a movie that both of us have never seen on pay per view?"

Chris settled back on the couch, lifting his bad leg up onto the coffee table to ease some of the pain. "Throw in a beer, and I'm yours."

Forty minutes later, Chris lay against Steve on the couch, watching some mindless comedy as they ate. It wasn't perfect, he wasn't healed…and maybe it would be a long time before he didn't wake from nightmares or hear that voice in his head…but he had this, and whatever it would turn out to be, it was stronger than those twelve hours.


End file.
